


Photographs of Memories

by prostaya_sila



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: How Do I Tag, My First Fanfic, snapshot writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:41:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prostaya_sila/pseuds/prostaya_sila
Summary: There are a lot of moments that make a person who they are - good and bad, all mixed up into what someone's going to be.This is just Steve's story. Funny how a fight can cause this much of a change in a person.





	Photographs of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as an example of snapshot writing for my friend Kieran (they're... ameenjouee on here). It was originally bounced off the Marvel rp group we're part of and they suggested I get an AO3 and share it so... here you have it!  
> -Jesse

Busted lip, forming bruises, shaking, but he was still stubbornly continuing to get to his feet. He had to keep getting to his feet. 

He could remember the sound of shouting - unfamiliar voice, tinged with venom and bite and turning concerned at the end, stilted and like there was blood or something. 

There was. He could taste it as he went down the next time - a surprise punch, taken just as the distraction was in full effect. 

He wasn’t getting back up from that one, he thought as vision blurred - a scuffle of shoes and then he was gone. 

✩~✩

Coming to, it was a nurse’s office. The smell of sterilization that came with any kind of medical place whether it be a hospital or a school nurse office. 

A shuffle to his left pulled his attention, and he was greeted by bright eyes only dimmed by concern and a darkening bruise or two. 

A pull as he forced himself up - wrapped ribs, his mom was going to kill him - and a hurried wave of the hand as brown hair and blue-grey eyes pulled closer to him to help, and he was upright and letting his eyes venture the room to avoid looking at the kid who’d definitely saved his ass. 

✩~✩

Another playground brawl, another set of bruises, and a wild laugh as they walked away with a teacher scolding them to their backs. 

No fighting bled into let’s try someone closer to your size next time, and Steve smiled along with the laughter and ignored the arm around his shoulder in favor of not falling on his face as they walked, leg throbbing in a way that let him know he was definitely alive. 

✩~✩

A quiet remark, followed by a shy smile and easy answer that had even him smiling fondly. 

New friend, his mom had said, and he remembered the easy agreement that had followed - it took the edge off the warning not to fight again to have someone to share a smile with over it once he was done explaining again that he’d done what he had for a reason, he would do it again in a heartbeat. 

The smell of food overcame the stench of home medical supplies, and an invitation thrown out that even he hadn’t expected to leave his mother’s lips. 

✩~✩

Middle school meant bigger bullies. More fights. Wilder laughter, stubborn arguments in the principal’s office ending in being sent home early with the warning not to come back until after the weekend. 

An easy thought I said closer to your size next time overlaying a reprimanding you have to stop fighting. 

He wouldn’t trade the duality for the world, it kept him present when the pain was too much.

✩~✩

He can’t remember a lot - the music, or what they talked about, but he does remember his mother laughing, eyes light and teasing. 

And he remembers the laughter he could hear coming from the couch when he nearly tripped over his own feet again. 

He’d never felt more alive. 

✩~✩

A too cold rag on a too hot forehead, a worried laugh followed by a warning sound when he tried to fight. 

No, I told your ma I’d watch over you til she got home echoing in his illness-idle brain until he was out cold again, repeated when the cycle restarted not twenty minutes later when he coughed himself back awake. 

He vividly remembers the taste of the soup. And the fact that it didn’t hurt when he couldn’t keep it down, even though the worried noise that came with that fact cut through him like a knife. 

✩~✩

Schoolyard brawls changing into backalley ones. Damages were the same, and the reaction was more exasperated now. 

Your ma’ll kill me. You just really like getting punched. You gotta learn to fight if you’re going to keep facing down folks bigger than you, pal. 

Being taught to throw a proper punch, even if he didn’t have much weight to throw into it, and to defend as best he could for being skin and bone and easy to knock over. It was still an improvement. 

Especially with the pride in the well you’re not black and blue this time that followed the next inevitable brawl he threw himself into. 

✩~✩

Joining the army - he knew he didn’t stand a chance, but damn if he didn’t try anyway.

And keep trying when he kept failing. Breaking the law or not, he was going, screw what any government official said if they didn’t agree.

Bucky was going, and so was he. There were an awful lot of bullies a hell of a lot worse than those on the streets of Brooklyn, and he was determined to be part of stopping them. 

✩~✩

The serum burned. It felt like he was dying, but dammit if this is what it took he’d take the pain.

Block it out like he’d been taught learning to fight properly, fighting anyway when he didn’t know how or had had every method known to him taken from him by force by someone bigger and stronger than him. 

This was nothing, especially if it meant he stood a chance at helping people who needed it. 

✩~✩

Humiliation was par for the course, being a show monkey like he was. This wasn’t what he signed up for, but they wouldn’t listen. 

That didn’t keep his stubborn streak from kicking in and sending him on a rescue mission with not enough training and definitely no idea what he was going to do when he got behind enemy lines, dragging two other people in with him. 

He’d owe them after he got out of this alive. And he would, this was just another fight that he was too stubborn to lose. 

✩~✩

Thought you were smaller dragged a startled laugh out of his own throat, and then he was pulling and they were moving. 

Shoving Bucky ahead when they caught trouble, saving him before himself was second nature the way it had to have been for Bucky back home. It was his turn to repay the favor of looking out for him. 

They could have it out later if it was a problem, but it wouldn’t be, he knew it. 

Ears ringing from the aftermath for the first hour of the long walk back to base, he grinned every time he caught sight of one of the men with him. 

This is what he was meant to be doing. Saving people who needed it. 

✩~✩

There’s no way he’d survive if he jumped. This hadn’t been meant to be a fight, it hadn’t been meant to be the reason he lost his best friend. 

He didn’t pull himself from the hole in the freight car until he had to, wanting it to be a trick. 

Tears stung his eyes and the air felt like it was setting his lungs on fire. This must be how his ma felt every time she got told he’d gotten in a fight without seeing him first.

Fingers found cold metal briefly, then he heaved a deep breath in-two-three, out-two-three-four, and he was moving again. 

He had a war to win. 

✩~✩

I have to put her in the water.

The panicked response barely made it through his brain more than to give him something to respond to. His own panic and resignation drowned it out, kept his voice calm. 

I need a raincheck on that dance.

Crash-cold cut everything out. Par for the course, he thought just before he slipped under. He would go out doing something like this. 

End of the line came a lot sooner than he had thought it would when Bucky and him had made that promise. 

✩~✩

Coming to, he was cold. And confused.

Nothing was right, that was clear.

He wasn’t surprised. He should be, but resigned seemed to come first, and just never left. 

✩~✩

Catching up with the time was hard. 70 years was a lot of time to catch up to, especially when he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

The graves of the Howling Commandos hurt to visit, but he had to. Bucky had a grave there, too, though he doubted they’d found his body.

The visit left him feeling like he was back in the ice, shivering and mumbling his own tag’s number until he blacked out, and he’d never gone back. 

✩~✩

The visit to the museum sect was easier. 

Silent laughter across a video - they both looked so alive there, how long had it been since he’d felt that alive? 

He found Bucky’s tags in the display, followed by his own. He turned and walked away without a single glance back. 

✩~✩

Fighting was easy. So he devoted his life to it again - he barely stood Tony at the start, but a common enemy does a lot for tolerance levels. 

By the end of it, by the time they fought about Bucky, and he got him back and they were all somewhat okay, if not on speaking terms again, he was ready to admit he’d had enough punches for the first time. 

He’d come when he was called, but he wasn’t going to be mad about a small break. 

I’m with you til the end of the line.

He just dared someone try to force that end again. He’d see to it that they didn’t make that mistake again. 


End file.
